


Put My Money Where Your Mouth Is

by darter_blue



Category: Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics), Justice League - All Media Types, Superman - All Media Types
Genre: Bets & Wagers, Getting Together, Identity Porn, M/M, Secret Identity, Team Fluff, oblivious idiots
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-13
Updated: 2020-06-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:28:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24695275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/darter_blue/pseuds/darter_blue
Summary: Batman overhears the Justice League gossipping about his Brucie Wayne alter ego and, through a series of escalations (and Clark being accosted by Hal for coming to Bruce’s defense), decides to use his secret identity and a visit to the Watchtower to troll them all.Only it turns out maybe Batman is not the world’s greatest detective, as he realises his feelings for Clark (and Clark’s feelings for Batman) might make things a little more complicated.Cue Identity porn, team shenanigans and a couple of hopelessly oblivious superheroes and a lot of fluffy crack.
Relationships: Clark Kent/Bruce Wayne
Comments: 61
Kudos: 815
Collections: Superbat Reverse Bang 2020





	Put My Money Where Your Mouth Is

**Author's Note:**

  * For [inihiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inihiu/gifts).



> Written for the Superbat Reverse Big Bang 2020 and prompted by the cutest, most gorgeous artwork by the brilliant [inihiu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/inihiu) see it here: [inihiu's prompt](https://inihiu.tumblr.com/post/620805837998391296/my-second-submission-for-the-2020-superbat-reverse)
> 
> Special thanks to [susiecarter](https://archiveofourown.org/users/susiecarter) for betaing my little crack fic with oodles of grace and genorisity.

###  **Bruce - Watchtower - Tuesday July 2 2019 - 20:00**

Bruce decides he's been spending too much time at the Watchtower on the day he overhears his own name mentioned and, instead of barrelling in and shutting it down, he hides in the shadows, back to the wall, straining to hear everything his teammates have to say on the subject of Bruce Wayne.

Understand, he knows it's not something to be proud of. It pains Bruce to realise that he's prepared to eavesdrop on his trusted colleagues just to steal precious soundbites of their personal opinion of him. 

Bruce has, in the past, briefly walked in on some fairly innocuous discussions: Hal is lusting after someone, Barry is looking for a roommate (does he need money? Should Bruce find some way to secretly stock up his bank account - note that down, speak to Alfred), Arthur is trying to find the best way to apologise for something (Bruce doesn't care to find out what happened, but it sounds like it involves a dolphin and a tutu), and J'onn is just happy to sit and chat with the others while he soaks up the nuances of human interaction, occasionally nodding or tilting his head as if checking things off in some mental notebook. Bruce has so far avoided, for good or bad, any mention of the billionaire playboy persona that he lives in by day (by _most_ days).

Bruce knows that none of the League would think to invite him to these chats. He doesn't lend himself well to human interaction - to the point where none of them are even privy to his real name. They know him as _Batman,_ sometimes _The Bat,_ and they've seen only as much of his face as the cowl will allow. And for the most part Bruce likes it that way - he _does_ \- but it's a lonely existence. One he resigned himself to long ago, but still. It gets harder every day to watch the other members grow closer and closer while he remains at the sidelines. 

So it’s a surprise to Bruce when he overhears his name, his real name, in Hal's distinctively arrogant voice, and it's even more of a surprise to hear it uttered in such a low, smoothly lustful way. Some mention of Bruce Wayne at a red carpet event he vaguely remembers attending a few nights ago (he _does_ remember the William Westmancott three-piece he was wearing).

'Have mercy! You should have seen him,' Hal is saying, sounding wistful.

'I did see him,' J'onn replies. 'You showed me the footage several times on your portable device.'

'Yeah, but I mean, wow,' Hal adds - which seems wholly unnecessary and inarticulate to Bruce.

'Wow?' J'onn asks, as if he is missing something and needs to add this elusive human nuance to his collection - study it and integrate it into his 'human behaviour' dossier.

'Yeah, wow, the _ass_ on him,' Hal clarifies.

'He has one, yes. Does not everyone?' J'onn seeks further clarification.

'I think he means it's a particularly good one,' Arthur pitches in, sounding just a tad too amused for Bruce's liking.

'That is _exactly_ what I mean, _Fish Man_.' Bruce hears a thud and an 'ow,' but no further comment from either Arthur or Hal.

It's Barry's voice that really startles Bruce into feeling like he simultaneously can't hear this but also cannot turn away. 'Do you think it's true, what they say about him?'

'Oh, I believe every word.' Of course Hal does.

'What do they say?' J'onn asks cautiously.

'Like, you know, that he's basically got a harem or whatever. A different girl every night.'

'I heard _guy_.'

'I heard _both_ ,' Arthur wades back in, a little too gleeful for Bruce.

'I doubt that's true,' J'onn says dubiously. 'I met him once, here in the tower, months ago. I didn't perceive anything in his manner suggesting he might be the owner of sexual slaves.'

'No, okay, whoa, J'onn, chill,' Barry says quickly, voice pitching slightly higher with unrest. 'I didn't mean he had _slaves_ , I was just, it was conjecture, okay?'

'Conjecture? A fanciful notion, you mean.'

'I guess, yeah, I just mean, like, he has a lot of girls, guys, whatever, for - you know - sexy-type sleepovers, like _all the time_.'

'He's rich,' Hal drawls, lazy. 'And sexy as _fuck_. Of course he does.'

'It just seems a bit lonely, is all,' Barry says, voice still pitched too high, small, for all that he's an experienced superhero. _Young_. 

Something about the juxtaposition of cheap gossip and genuine sympathy makes Bruce decidedly uncomfortable. This is nothing he hasn't heard before. An image of himself that he has, in fact, worked hard to cultivate into a very solid distraction from his persona as the Bat. But it's nothing he's ever heard discussed by people who he feels actually _know_ him - if only by the tiny pieces of his real self he's let them see - and that stings. His ego (and his _feelings_ , any of which he'll vehemently deny he possesses) shouldn't be so fragile after all the years he's spent as _Brucie Wayne_ , but apparently it is.

Bruce is only meters from them all, hiding in the corridor like a fool, while it sounds as if they're all sitting around the common room table, eating and (in Arthur's case) drinking. J'onn, no doubt, has his handheld monitor in front of him, so as not to miss any incoming messages - Clark is supposed to be on surveillance, but J'onn likes to keep abreast of everything. And, fortuitously, the moment Bruce thinks of him, Clark appears (Bruce holds back the urge to bash his head into the wall - Clark would clearly hear it) to add to the frivolity. Bruce can't take the chance that Clark will see him through the walls of the kitchen, so he quietly props himself up and away from the safety of his hiding spot and strides into the common room with false purpose.

'Hey,' Clark says with a friendly smile, eyes on Batman and then sweeping over the other members of the League as they lounge haphazardly across the chairs of the palatial dining table. 

Bruce feels that something in him tighten, that something that always clenches whenever Clark sets his eyes on him. At a glance, a person might think Bruce and Clark have a lot in common, and maybe that's true; but Bruce, clinging to his distance, refuses to acknowledge it. Clark is so intrinsically _good_ , it feels like he and the Bat can never see eye to eye. They disagree on everything. And they come at every problem from opposite angles. It's too hard to rectify that, for Bruce - or maybe the problem is that it would be too easy. He prefers not to think about it.

Bruce is brought back to himself at yet more mention of his alter-ego.

'You know Bruce Wayne, right, Clark?' Barry asks, determined not to let this go.

'Oh, a little. Not well, I don't think,' Clark says tentatively, perhaps aware of what they had been discussing and not wanting to get involved. Clark is revoltingly innocent, despite who he is and what he's been through. Bruce resolutely does _not_ find it charming.

'Ooh, look at the blush on you!' Hal calls. Clark's blush, which is unfairly attractive on the already ridiculously attractive man, intensifies under scrutiny. 'You sure you don't know him _well_?'

'Hal,' Clark admonishes softly. 'He's a friend, sort of. It's not like that.' Clark is honest to god ducking his head at the accusation, but Bruce is more taken with the words than his body language. Does Clark really think of them as friends? Clark looks to Bruce, the Bat, to clock his reaction, to the amusement of the rest of the team (bar J'onn, who is just ping-ponging between speakers with confused apathy). Bruce chooses to scowl at them all and turn away, under the guise of getting himself a bottle of sugar-free electrolytes from the refrigerator. He steadfastly refuses to look back at any of them as the conversation continues.

'Bruce Wayne doesn't have friends, he has fuck buddies,' Hal says shrewdly. Bruce can only imagine the colour of Clark's cheeks in response.

'Hal, I think that’s grossly unfair.'

'Maybe he just hasn't met the right person?' Barry says, with a touch of whimsy. Bruce can tell the sharp replying snort of cynicism comes from Arthur.

'Maybe he just hasn't been fucked by the right person.'

'Hal!' several voices scold back at once.

'What? I bet he just needs to get fucked good and proper. He's got that look about him.'

Bruce just drains the bottle of slightly metallic, artificially coloured water and wills the tic in his eye to dissipate through years of honed, tightly reined control.

'Hal, that is so inappropriate,' Clark says, disdain evident in every syllable.

'I'm guessing, in your wild fantasies, it's you doing the fucking? Is it, Hal?'

'Arthur, ew,' Barry says, and Bruce, crumpling his empty bottle and tossing it into the recycling, turns to see Barry scrunch his nose up in distaste. 'I don't want that image of Hal in my head.'

'You should be so lucky to have that image in your head, Speedy, this is some top quality imagery right here.' Bruce cannot help but grimace as Hal kisses each bicep in turn and then the air in Barry's direction.

Clark has flushed a gorgeous shade of red at the turn the conversation has taken. 'I don't think you're his type,' Clark says, sounding surprised at the admission. 'He does have _some_ taste.'

'Jealous, Smallville?'

'Of you? No.'

Bruce isn't the only one who swings an impressed glance at Clark's nonchalant rebuff. He _is_ the only one that sees the small uptick at the corners of Clark's mouth, though, sent specifically Bruce's way, as if Clark is letting the Bat in on his secret, while the others turn back to Hal and wait for his return fire. It's only a smile and a small shake of the head, but Bruce suddenly wishes he could tell Clark who he really is, just to have one person, one perfect person, really on his side. (He has Alfred. But Alfred isn't _here._ And Alfred isn't... well _..._ he isn't _Clark._ )

'I'm willing to bet you good money that he would take me over you, Smallville,' Hal says. The exaggerated eyebrow wiggle takes some of the heat out of it, but it's still a shitty thing to say; even J'onn knows that. So it's yet another surprise when Arthur throws five crumpled, slightly soggy, hundred-dollar notes onto the table, one scarred eyebrow raised in challenge.

'Guys, come on,' Clark huffs, looking shamefaced at the money on the table. Hal's gleeful laugh as he grabs for it snaps something in Bruce. From the stash of emergency bills he keeps in the zipped pouch on the inside of his left boot, he pulls ten crisp hundreds and throws them down before Hal has a chance to pocket his unearned cash.

'Holy shit,' Barry whispers.

'Batman, why?' Clark asks despairingly.

'Fuck yeah, now we're talking.' Arthur sits back with his arms crossed.

Hal is looking a little (more) green around the edges but firms his jaw, steels his posture.

J'onn watches them all and looks faintly concerned.

Bruce turns on his heel and walks away, with no further cares as to the direction the conversation might take. He's smiling to himself in the privacy of the hallway, and devising a plan for Bruce Wayne to make another little visit to the Watchtower, his company's largest 'line item'.

He thinks of Hal's smug face. He thinks of Clark's flushed cheeks. He thinks of all the possibilities.

It might even be fun.

###  **Clark - Watchtower - Tuesday July 2 2019 - 20:30**

Clark watches Batman walk away with no idea why he would make that bet. The Bat is stoic and unwavering; he's maybe a little cold sometimes, a little too slow to action and too quick to violence, but he's never been _petty_ like this. 

As Batman swaggers off, ink-black cape flowing behind him, eating light right out of the room, Clark turns to find four sets of eyes watching him with raised eyebrows, as if _he_ has something to answer for. Which - _rude -_ because all of this is their. Fault. 

Clark had only wandered down to the common room to be personable, to be friendly. He should have known better; he's never been good at making friends, really, even with his small-town charm and freakish warmth (which Lois often tells him is the only reason she puts up with him, and, he thusly assumes, is an important aspect of all friendships), and so here he is - choosing to watch the monitor through the walls, rather than from his favourite chair in the control room - for the chance to eat with the others and maybe join in on the gossip.

But this isn't gossip he wants to be any part of. Bruce Wayne is sort of a jerk, that's true, and both times Clark has met him, he looked at Clark the way Clark imagines a starving man might examine a piece of meat (a piece of meat he was maybe expecting to have served up to him on a platter). But Wayne also remembered his name, caught him to keep him from stumbling over a stray table leg, and complimented his piece on the negative impacts of fracking in rural communities. So it also seems to Clark like a lot of his playboy persona is just for show. There's something there, in his eyes - bright blue and bottomless - that promises substance under all that simpering. Deep, deep down.

So Clark tried to shut down the way Hal was talking about Bruce. He isn't overly fond of Hal at all, to be honest, and certainly not if this was an indication of his general treatment of members of the public. And yeah, okay, he maybe shouldn't have made any cracks about Bruce's taste in men, or not being threatened by Hal (which, truly, he is _not)_ but he couldn't abide that kind of objectification. He was raised better than that. 

And now, yes, he is in over his head a little; but, really, when is he likely to actually see Bruce Wayne again? And even if he does, what are the chances the others will ever know about it? Low, very low (nobody is too interested in the life and times of Clark Kent). So nobody will know if he just avoids Bruce Wayne altogether. And though he's actively trying not to worry about Hal now being in hot pursuit of Bruce Wayne, Clark thinks even _Brucie_ has enough self-preservation to avoid Hal Jordan on a mission to defile.

He refocuses on the present to find Arthur looking at him with a knowing glint in his eye. 'You okay there, Clark?'

'I'm... yep, I'm great,' he says with forced cheerfulness. Hal looks as if his expression can't decide whether to be terrified or overjoyed. Clark can sort of relate.

'Clark, you know you don't have to... you didn't actually... like, technically you haven't agreed to anything, so...'

'Thanks, Barry. I'm not worried.' He is. He is worried.

'Are you really friends with Bruce Wayne?' Clark looks at Barry, who's wide-eyed with expectation and perhaps a hint of hero worship. Which Clark hopes is for the billionaire in question, and not himself.

'I am. And even if I wasn't, you shouldn't be so disrespectful of people's private lives, Barry.' Arthur expels another of his amused snorts at that sentiment, and Hal makes a face like he just ate a lemon, but Barry seems suitably chastised. 

Clark's so busy listening to Batman's teleportation off the Watchtower, he doesn't notice Diana until she's almost on top of them. 'Who shouldn't be disrespectful about whom?' she says, distracted by the various options of food in the fridge and settling on the leftover chocolate cake from Victor's birthday last Saturday.

Hal does not look excited at the prospect of filling Diana in on what she's missed.

Arthur, on the other hand, looks ecstatic. 

'Bruce Wayne,' Barry pipes up, because apparently Clark hasn't suffered enough. 

'Oh, yes,' Diana says, with a grin that doesn't bode well for Clark. 'I remember you and your little crush, Clark.'

He shakes his head at her at a speed only she and Barry would catch.

Hal's face lights up. Arthur is actually laughing. Barry is jumping up and down fast enough that he's essentially just vibrating.

'Diana, I don't... you're not... it's not a _crush_.'

'We met with him for the Lexcorp benefit, and I very much remember you blushing like crazy and his wanting to eat you with a spoon.'

'Oh my god!' 

'Excellent.' 

'What? Bullshit,' Barry, Arthur and Hal all say at the same time, respectively. 

Diana looks over at Clark, hip leaning on the island bench of the kitchen. She's holding a plate of gigantic portions of chocolate cake, her smile brighter than the sun. 'You should hit that, Kal-El.' It's said with the inflection of a direct quote from Barry, and she saunters off to unnamed destinations with her cake and a wink, unfairly leaving him behind to clean up her mess.

It's not until she's gone that Clark even remembers there was no Lexcorp benefit. Diana is 100% full of shit - heard the entire conversation from wherever she was in the tower, and came down to wreak havoc before escaping with, frankly, more cake than she deserves. 

'That's not even true,' Clark tries to explain, but only Hal is buying it (with a gleeful, 'Ha! I knew it!').

'Come on, Supes, all you gotta do is bag the hot billionaire and I beat Hal out of five hundred of his not-that-hard-earned dollars.'

'Even Batman thinks you can win, Clark,' Barry adds, still looking sort of starstruck about the whole thing. 

'I really just... I think...' Clark can't even find words. 'I'll be back in the control room if anyone needs me.'

J'onn rises from his seat saying, 'I shall accompany you, Superman,' and robbing Clark of his chance to slink away alone. 

They leave the common room and head for the control room, Clark attempting to shrink into himself to escape any form of conversation, but knowing full well that he's probably yelling his thoughts at J'onn, with all the noise in his brain right now.

'From my understanding of wagers, I don't believe you are beholden to anything, Superman.'

Clark looks at J'onn, really looks at him for the first time since stepping foot into the common room. He is almost expressionless, but there is a hint of something at the corners of his eyes. Concern, maybe? 

'I'll keep that in mind, J'onn. But thank you.' J'onn nods as Clark pats him briefly on the shoulder. 'I appreciate your support.'

At least one person is on his side.

###  **Victor - Watchtower - Tuesday July 2 2019 - 22:00**

'Okay, I know I've said this before,' Barry whispers, closer to Victor's ear than anybody else ever seems to want to be, now that most of him is made of metal. 'But, Vic, I'm positive as fuck that Batman is hot for Superman.'

'You _have_ said that before,' Victor replies, rolling his one human eye. 'Forty-two times, according to the logs kept by my internal systems.' He tries to sound annoyed, but the affection is hard to keep out of his voice. Barry is too much like a puppy for Victor to stay any kind of annoyed at. A hyperactive, super-powered, puppy.

'But you should've seen his face-'

'I wouldn't have been able to,' Victor interrupts. Barry remains undeterred.

'-he was so jealous!'

'You wouldn't have been able to, either.'

'I could see enough,' Barry argues.

'His jaw...'

'And his mouth! And you could totally tell, when Hal was being a dick and Bats was all, like, "Fuck _you,_ little green man, here's a huge stack of bills to prove I'm in love with Clark and you're an asshole," bam.' Barry mimes slapping a 'stack of bills' on the table with a flourish.

Victor looks at him with a heavy dose of salt. 'I don't actually believe you.'

'Believe it. In fact,' Barry says, abandoning all pretence of trying to be covert now and speaking in his very normal, very excitable register, 'I bet _you_ it's true.'

'You don't have any money, Barry.'

'Well, I metaphorically bet you.'

'Okay,' Victor says, and is pretty sure his mouth is smiling (sometimes it's hard to tell). 'I metaphorically accept.'

Barry's smile is blinding and he's doing that vibrating thing again, just reinforcing to Victor that the puppy analogy is dead on. He bumps Victor's shoulder as he sits back, as if in solidarity, and they get back to watching the movie - with a slew of interruptions from Barry as he gets more and more invested in the relationship between the main characters, never mind that he's seen it many times before. Victor finds the constant chatter and close proximity a welcome reminder of all the parts of himself that remain human. It's why Barry is his favourite. 

While Barry is distracted, Victor makes a note to check in with the Bat, because ... well, Victor's not about to go yelling it from the rooftops - if he were a fan of gossip he would've been down in the common room with the rest of the team in the first place - but he's relatively sure (87.3%) that Bruce Wayne and Batman are the same person. As much as two polar opposite personalities could ever be called the same person. Unlike the way Clark is Superman, Barry is the Flash, and Diana is Wonder Woman (definitely not in the way Arthur is Aquaman, because Arthur _is_ Aquaman) - using a mask or identity-blurring abilities to disguise themselves - Victor wonders if it isn't the Bat who's using Bruce Wayne as his mask, and deep down inside, the man really is just a grumpy, surly, cold-shouldered perfectionist.

It's a working theory.

Perhaps Victor will pay more attention to this gossip than he normally would - for research purposes. 

  
  


###  **Hal - Watchtower - Friday August 02 2019 - 19:00**

Hal has been waiting for an opportunity, biding his time. He tried setting a meeting with the billionaire under the guise of needing _something_ from Wayne industries. But apparently the guy doesn't take meetings - big surprise. He tried getting himself invited to one of those gala thingies that Brucie's always being photobombed at. He didn't manage to score an invite - he did manage to photobomb the guy, though. And get himself escorted from the premises by security (he could have taken them, but he's trying to keep a low profile after that whole misunderstanding with that senator guy with the thing, he's fuzzy on the details). He even tried just casually hanging out with Lex Luthor for a bit, to see if he could get in with Brucie by billionaire association. No such luck. Also, turns out that Lex guy is a super dick. Who knew?

But _yes!_ Finally! Bruce Wayne and Hal Jordan will be in the same room at the same time. Bruce Wayne is due to teleport into the Watchtower any minute now, and this is Hal's chance to turn on the charm and bag himself some super-rich ass. Hal has been secretly, low-key wanting to get himself inside this man for a while now. 

Today's the day.

Only it turns out not to be going quite the way Hal expected.

He totally gets why Arthur chucked his dumb prince-of-the-sea money into the ring, just to stir shit and get Clark all riled up (which - worth it). But it was unexpected that Batman threw his wad of bills into the mix. Who would honestly bet against Hal in a bachelor-style, winner-take-all fight for a sex-crazed billionaire bad boy? Anybody who had eyes could clearly see that yeah, okay, objectively Clark was sort of hot, but also, seriously, just take a look at his wardrobe. Did he steal those chinos from his grandpa? And with the bumbling and the glasses and the _aw shucks_ routine? Not sexy. 

Hal, on the other hand? Strength of the universe in his finger (literally), a body to die for, and a head of hair that people honestly stopped him in the street to compliment - who would pass that up?

Nobody - that was who. And he figured this was gonna be the easiest money he ever made.

So, yeah, it should be a good thing that Bruce has arrived, and J'onn is bringing the guy down to the common room, where they've decked out the island as a wet bar and plan to schmooze the guy into upgrading some thing or another, on top of all the secret cash he invested way back when. Except the part where Bruce has done nothing but shake people's hands, glance fleetingly at them and brush them off in favour of faffing all over the tech and blah blah blah (Hal isn't listening), and didn't give Hal more than a cursory once-over before moving straight on to Barry - to _Barry! -_ is not how Hal was expecting this to go.

And then it all goes to shit. Because fucking salt-of-the-earth, corn-fed farmboy Kent walks in all suited up and buff as fuck, no glasses, no awkward reporter routine, and ruins everything. Fucking _Superman_.

###  **Clark - Watchtower - Friday August 02 2019 - 19:30**

Clark should have known the minute Diana showed up to ask for help, needing him for 'just one minute,' claiming that something in the common room required his attention. Why hadn't he asked? Why hadn't he looked ahead through the walls? Because she had distracted him with questions about his mother, that's why. Damn Diana and her smokey voice and lilt-y accent that gets him every time. Oh, 'how was Martha coping without him on the farm, did he think it would be useful to send one of them down there in shifts on the weekends to help her with the chores' (he's holding her to that, more fool her) - rode right over him, and he walked head-first into her trap. 

Because, of course, right there, glass of pink bubbles in one hand and the other resting on the rather firm, muscular forearm of their resident Martian Manhunter, is none other than Bruce Wayne. And somehow the minute Clark walks into the room, Bruce's eyes are on him. And there's that expression. He wasn't imagining it last time. Bruce looks positively ravenous, and Clark is a five-course meal right now. 

'Superman!' Bruce calls. And - right. Bruce doesn't know he's Clark, doesn't recognise him. Because here in the Watchtower he has to be Superman; he's in his suit, his hair is slick, his muscles are all on display. It feels like it would be cheating somehow, if Bruce really were to make a move on him like this.

'Hello, Mr Wayne.' Clark accepts his offered hand and shakes it firmly (it would be rude not to) and it takes Bruce far too long to let go. 

'You're looking delectable.'

Clark has no idea how to react to being called delectable. He is too aware that he's Superman right now, and Superman doesn't blush - but he's not sure he has it in him to keep all the awkwardness out of his body language. He's never been great at taking compliments, or gracefully accepting praise, and this is a decidedly whole 'nother level of regard. How is any person supposed to react to that? 

He can see Hal looking at him with a murder glare, which is supremely unfair, as Clark has honestly just walked in the room. He's barely said two words, he's standing right next to a legitimate, actual, real-life Amazon goddess, and yet it's still Clark that Bruce is making eyes at. It makes no sense.

'Oh, well, thank you. Ah, I... you look, um.' He looks to J'onn for assistance, but J'onn looks like he's busy not laughing, which only makes everything worse. 'Very nice also,' he goes with, in the end (it's true, in any case; Bruce does look amazing in his suit - which probably cost just as much as he's planning to invest in the Watchtower this evening).

'Do I?' Bruce asks, his eyebrows doing something that's awfully distracting. Clark is sure that he would be sweating, if he weren't in possession of the glorious Kryptonian biology that he's never been more fond of than he is at this very moment, honestly. 'Tell me more about that, Superman.'

'Oh, I would, absolutely. But, um, I'm afraid I can't stay - I have to get back to the control room.' Clark attempts to make a daring escape.

And is foiled by Bruce's enthusiastic, 'Oh, that sounds fun! I'd love to see it.'

'I'm sorry... no, or-' Diana is looking at him reproachfully, and - it's very convincingly reproachful. It _is_ their job to be entertaining Bruce Wayne tonight, impressing him, pandering. Not doing _anything_ to jeopardise the investment they're hoping he'll make. Clark's abruptly keenly aware of the need not to let the rest of the team down, just because he's suffering at some strange juncture between uncomfortable and aroused. 'Yes, sorry. Of course, yes, I can - ah, okay. Right this way, Bruce, sure... follow me.'

Bruce's smile is predatory, and he steps away from J'onn and right into Clark's space to take his arm and gesture for Clark to lead the way. Clark has never been more terrified.

Bruce stands so close to Clark as they make their way through the corridors that Clark feels warm breath on his neck. Clark is aware, in his head, that it should be a more unpleasant experience than it's turning out to be in reality. The Superman suit is a lot of things, and revealing is certainly one of them. 

'So this is where the magic happens, huh?' Bruce asks, leaning quite suggestively into Clark's space. Hal clambers into the room on their heels, seemingly trailing all the way behind them to keep an eye on his prize, and behind Hal, because this is Clark's life now, come Arthur, Barry and Diana, who may as well be sitting back and eating popcorn for all their gleeful voyeurism. 

'Oh, well, I mean, it's not magic,' Clark stammers, flustered by the proximity and the audience. 'You'll have to thank Batman for most of the tech in here, and how well organised everything manages to be. He's the real brains behind this operation.' Which is true, and Clark, though somewhat salty at the Bat himself, will always give credit where it's due.

J'onn, who, out of nowhere, is sitting stationed along the wall of monitors, is staring at Clark with a raised eyebrow, the deeper meaning of which Clark is wholly unsure how to interpret. 

'The Bat, huh?' Bruce asks, some of his enthusiasm waning.

'Oh, yes.' Clark latches onto the topic immediately. Anything that might dislodge Bruce's hand from where it's set to creep dangerously and inappropriately low on his back is worth trying. 'He's the real leader, the Watchtower was all his idea from the start.' J'onn's eyebrow is looking more angry than amused now. 'Well, he _and_ J'onn, of course.'

'I'm pretty sure it was all J'onn,' Hal says, taking the opportunity to jump into the conversation, smirking. 'The big bad Bat is really only good at intense brooding and pissing Superman here off.'

'That's not true.'

'It _is_ true,' Hal says. 'You and he do nothing but fight all the time.'

'We disagree, I'll admit, but it's a mutually respectful disagreement,' Clark says, trying to be diplomatic, 'Sometimes you have to see both sides of a thing to find the best outcome for everyone.'

'Or you just want to jump each other's bones,' Hal adds, not quite under his breath enough to go unheard. Barry lets out a weird little squeal at the suggestion. Clark is pretty disheartened by the agreeing expressions of his teammates all round. He and Batman have surely never given the impression of wanting to jump each other's bones. Have they?

Bruce, for his part, is looking at Clark quizzically.

'That is also a lie,' Clark argues. 'Batman and I are... well, we're...' He doesn't think about Batman like that. He doesn't. But he can't for the life of him figure out what he's trying to say. 'Just teammates and nothing more.'

'Seems like maybe you're protesting a little too hard there, Supes.' Hal is looking far too smug. It's the most irritating thing about the whole situation. 

'Hal likes to cause trouble,' Clark says to Bruce, not even sure at this point why he's explaining himself at all. Didn't he just five minutes ago wish for a way to get Bruce Wayne to leave him be? Is he so competitive that he would invite Bruce's attention just to win a bet? 'You should really ignore about eighty percent of the words he says.' Seems like maybe he is.

'Well... You and Batman do both seem to have a penchant for dramatic outfits,' Bruce says, with a carefully schooled expression; Clark can't quite get a read on him. 'Although _you_ make it look much more appealing, I have to say.'

Arthur lets out one of his patented snorts and reminds Clark they still have an audience.

'I've never been a fan of capes myself,' Hal says, demanding attention. 'Too grandiose. Plus, seems like kind of a safety hazard, if you ask me.'

'I don't believe I did,' Bruce says, and three sets of 'ooh' can be heard from the peanut gallery in the back. 'Or that anyone did, actually.'

Hal's face is slowly becoming the colour of a ripe tomato, and Clark would be guiltier about how satisfying that feels except it's Hal. So.

'How about I give you a tour of the engine room?' J'onn interrupts, standing suddenly and making his way back to Bruce's side. Clark gives him a look of gratuitous relief.

'Oh, really? I-' J'onn gives Bruce a look that doesn't leave room for disagreement. 'Sure, sounds great,' Bruce says warily, eyes still on Clark. 'It was a pleasure to meet you, Superman.'

'Yes, you too.'

'We should do it again sometime.'

'Oh, well, yes. I'm... that might be nice.' Clark fights not to hide his face; he's Superman, he doesn't have the luxury of human feelings. Bruce's smirk now telegraphs exactly how he feels about Clark's bumbling response. Jeez, Clark needs to get it together before he blows his cover. 

'This way, if you will, Mr Wayne,' J'onn directs Bruce away from the group and from Clark. Who finally has his personal space back, and is feeling pretty conflicted about it, honestly. He knows he isn't affected by temperature, but that warmth was comforting.

Anyway, he needs to shake it off. This is what he wanted. Isn't it?

'Looks like Bruce wants to bite off a nice big piece of our little Superman,' Arthur says, that hint of amusement looking like it might as well be permanently etched into his face. 

'Nope!' Hal all but shouts. 'The bet was for a fuck!'

'I never agreed to that!' Clark bites back, angry now at last over the idea that he would ever bet on something like that. He would _not._

'I think you'll find the bet was for Bruce to choose Clark over you, Hal,' Diana says wisely, and Clark and Barry both nod along.

'You weren't even there!' Hal says, incredulous.

' _I_ was there,' Arthur says. 'Pretty sure that's what you said.'

'I won't be paying out _anything_ if there's no dick involved.'

'Oh, there's a dick involved,' Arthur scoffs, rolling his eyes. Diana's expression suggests she agrees. Barry hasn't closed his mouth since Bruce set foot in the common room, Clark is pretty sure. It might now be frozen like that. 

'How about we let Batman decide?' a deep, even voice utters from the doorway as Victor comes into view, with no indication of how long he's been there. 

'Sure,' Hal says, not fazed at all by Victor's sudden appearance. 'Where is Big Bat anyway?'

'Good question,' Clark says quietly. He could have used that calming stoicism, and huffs a little laugh to himself at the idea of what Batman might make of Bruce Wayne. Or vice versa. They probably spend the same obscene amount of money on their outfits.

'I think you're all missing the key point anyway,' Hal says, crossing his arms. 'He's supposed to choose Clark, not Superman.'

Everybody starts talking at once: 'That's ridiculous.' 'Boo!' 'They are one and the same person, Hal Jordan.' 

'No, Superman is too unfairly advantaged. It doesn't count.'

'Hal, I believe you are being unreasonable,' Victor says, calmly but decisively.

Everyone seems to agree, nodding and validating with a chorus of 'yeah' and 'uh huh'.

Except for Clark himself. 'I actually think he might be right.'

'You didn't even want to be a part of this bet five seconds ago,' Arthur says.

But Hal looks triumphant.

'They're the same person!' Barry argues. 'It shouldn't matter.'

'I don't actually believe that.'

'What?'

'That me and Superman are the same person. Clark and Superman, I mean.'

'Clark? What are you talking about?'

'I just. _Clark_ is me, it's not a disguise. I mean, the glasses are, my shirts might be a size too big, I ham up the clumsy angle, but Clark is _me_. Superman is a symbol, he's an ideal. He's not really real, guys. Superman is the disguise.'

Hal actually looks torn between being touched by Clark's admission, and gloating over his win.

Whatever all of this means for Clark, or to the others, or the bet, he's not waiting around to find out. He makes a run for it (he flies, to be honest) and gets as far away from all of them as he can.

It's been a long night.

###  **Victor - Watchtower - Friday August 02 2019 - 20:30** ****

Victor watches Clark fly away with some concern. He sees Barry's face, and he understands the confusion from the rest of the team; perhaps Diana has an idea of what just happened, but they are left wrong-footed and that almost never happens where Clark is involved. Because he is usually so sure, so just, so calm and poised. It allows the others to believe that he doesn't need the Justice League for more than their powers. 

But it seems like they have underestimated how much of Superman's presence is an act.

Victor knows another member of the team who might be aware of the dichotomy Clark faces every day. Because he sees it in Batman when the others don't - probably only because he knows to look for it. Because he knows now (100%) that the Bat is Bruce Wayne, but he is less sure now that it's Bruce who's the Bat more than the Bat is Bruce. 

So he slips away from the control room while the others react to Clark fleeing on them. And he follows J'onn and Bruce into the lower levels.

He waits somewhat away from where they are - not wanting to interrupt, but allowing them to notice that he's there. Not that he _could_ hide himself from either of them, even if he wanted to. They aren't speaking, but they are moving together. J'onn is watching Bruce and Bruce is avoiding his eye. It's obvious to Victor that Bruce is aware J'onn knows exactly who he is. 

Victor wonders how long that has been the case.

'Clark has gone back to Earth, I think,' Victor says, wanting to break the tension and succeeding in startling Bruce instead.

'He what? Is he okay? What happened? Was it Hal?'

J'onn cocks his head and listens to, presumably, Clark's thought patterns. Victor isn't sure how the telepathy works, and doesn't have any future plans to probe his teammate about it. 'He's not injured; he is unhappy, though. Anxious, maybe.'

'Maybe, J'onn, you could contact Batman, if he's down there, and ask him to check in on Clark for us,' Victor suggests, pointedly looking at Bruce.

Bruce looks back with surprise that quickly morphs into resignation.

'It might be time for me to get back too, J'onn, if you'd be so kind.'

J'onn nods, looking less than thrilled with Bruce and a little knowingly at Victor, and leads Bruce away and back to the transportation pods.

###  **Bruce - Clark’s Apartment, Metropolis - Friday August 02 2019 - 22:00**

It's fair to say Bruce has probably fucked up.

He was thinking this would be fun. He was thinking this would put Hal in his place. He was thinking, hey, it might even be fun to flirt with Clark and see that gorgeous blush again.

He was not thinking: hey, it might be sort of cruel to make Clark uncomfortable by invading his personal space and breathing down his neck and eye-fucking him without consent.

Also, and perhaps maybe worse, with no intention of revealing to Clark that the Bruce he felt so compelled to defend to the Justice League and the Batman he felt so compelled to defend to Bruce were, _are_ , one and the same person.

This is only further cemented when he arrives at Clark's apartment, as Batman, to enter through the open (Clark, come on) sliding door of Clark's rickety bedroom balcony. And there he finds Clark, staring at him with equal amounts of apprehension and confusion. 

'Batman?' Clark asks, dressed down now into soft grey sleep pants and a simple white t-shirt. 'Is everything okay?' Head tilted, he's listening for the emergency that brought Batman here, and coming up blank.

Bruce stalks past him and sweeps the apartment, double-checking that Clark is alone. And he has a speech prepared; part of a speech; he has some idea of what he wants to say. But none of it seems right, now that Clark is staring at him, with such a lost puppy look on his face that Bruce can't even help himself. He takes a step closer, careful not to overwhelm with proximity, but close enough that Clark and he stand face to face, and before Clark can say the words Bruce sees him forming, Bruce removes the lead lined cowl of his costume in one smooth movement to reveal his face.

Clark stares back at him, wide-eyed. And then sits down. On the floor. Which he must not have meant to do, because he quickly picks himself back up and moves to the couch - quicker than Bruce can track with his naked eye, anyway. He doesn't take his eyes off Bruce's face the entire time.

Bruce works very hard not to put the mask back on.

'Bruce?' Clark says finally, tentatively.

'Hello, Clark.'

'You...? Bruce Wayne? And Batman?'

Bruce just nods.

'Oh my god.' Clark places his head gently in his hands and hides his eyes for a moment. When he looks back up at Bruce it's impossible to tell if he's hurt, angry, or embarrassed. Bruce suspects it might be all three.

'I think I should...' Bruce steps forward to where Clark is sitting and sits next to him. 'I think I should explain myself.'

Clark gestures with an open palm, to suggest that Bruce should go right ahead. 

'Hal pissed me off.'

'Hal pisses me off every day. Big whoop. Try again.'

'No, I... I heard the guys talking about me. I overhear them bitching about the Bat all the time: I'm a hardass, I'm a killjoy, I'm less human than the aliens-'

'Batman-'

'-I've heard it all, Clark, and I can live with it because it saves lives for the Bat to be all those things. But that day I overheard my name, _my_ name. Bruce Wayne. And I wanted to know why.'

Clark sighs but doesn't interrupt.

'Only to hear them be even more shitty about Bruce Wayne than they are about Batman.'

'So you wanted to get even,' Clark says, slumping back into the couch.

'No, Clark. I would have just told them all to shut up and get back to work, except you came in and defended my honour.'

'That's not...' Clark stammers. 'That wasn't what I was doing, I was just - they were being gross.'

'Right, about me. And you asked them not to. And then Hal was being an asshole and I just snapped. Threw that money down on the table and thought it would be fun to make him look as stupid as he is for once.'

'And me in the process.'

'No,' Bruce says. 'I wanted you to win, Clark.'

'And then what? You'd ditch me as soon as Hal was out of earshot?' He moves forward on the couch, dangerously close to Bruce, their knees touching.

'No.'

'Well, what was your plan once you got me?'

Bruce shrugs, caught by the question and not wanting to answer.

'Bruce?' Clark presses. 'Let me down gently? Change your mind suddenly? How were you going to get out of it? I mean, Bruce Wayne wasn't going to just date Clark Kent,' he adds with a huffed laugh.

Bruce, who's normally so good at hiding all of his emotions, somehow telegraphs his exact level of discomfort at Clark's inadvertently hitting the mark with his sarcasm.

'You can't be serious! Bruce, what were you going to do if I was actually interested? Kiss me?'

Bruce raises an eyebrow.

'Sleep with me?' Clark's voice rises an octave.

Bruce swallows a little too obviously.

'Bruce...'

'It would have been a... perk. Certainly.'

'What?'

And it's the disbelief on Clark's face that Bruce doesn't like. And which he completely blames for the inspiration to lean in, lips close enough to touch. 'I want those things, Clark, with you.' And he waits.

Clark seems to let go of some long-held tension at Bruce's confession. 'You do?'

'I do.'

'But it would have been an act…'

'It would have been the truth,' Bruce says softly, knowing Clark can read him, knowing he can tell that's not a lie, 'I've wanted it for a long time.'

'Me too,' Clark whispers, disbelief turning to stunned acceptance. His eyes flutter closed as Bruce presses in that millimetre more, to sink into the lush warmth of the mouth he'd been inappropriately dreaming about long before he ever made that damn bet. 

It's more than a kiss, the way their lips fit together, the shared breath, the soft brush of Clark's tongue against Bruce's. And when Clark lets go, leans back, Bruce tries to follow him. Which, he's pleased to note, makes Clark smile so wide it's blinding.

'Come on,' he says, standing up and tugging Bruce with him gently (Bruce is disproportionately curious about exactly how _not gentle_ Clark might be with the right motivation). 'Hal has at least given me a good idea about just what I need to give you, Bruce Wayne.'

Bruce is, for once, one hundred percent on board with taking Hal Jordan's advice. 

And not even mad that it turns out he's right.

###  **Hal - Watchtower - Saturday August 03 2019 - 11:30**

Hal is stretched out on the lounge in the common room. He's alive, he thinks. Yes, his eyes are open and there is light. The room is spinning, though. If he could somehow make that stop, it would be great. Maybe he should have eased off a little on that licorice vodka stuff last night. 

Lol, who is he kidding.

He doesn't even have time to sit up before Batman comes waltzing in like he owns the place, hand outstretched. 

'You owe me one thousand dollars.'

_Oh, here we go, The Bat's gonna try this on_. Well, Hal isn't having it. Everyone knows that serious money doesn't change hands until bodily fluids and genitalia are involved.

'The bet was for _sex!_ I don't care what you say!'

'It wasn't,' Batman drawls. 'But either way, the money's mine.'

'What?!' He can't be serious.

'If you require proof, I suggest you check the society pages.'

Hal sits bolt upright at that implication; fumbles about, checking his pockets and slipping over the cushions to find his phone and check his twitter feed. And fuck, if there isn't a new hashtag trending. 

#offthemarket

There's a front page spread of Bruce's latest walk of shame, except the couple are walking together into some cheesy diner, Bruce in the same suit from last night, holding hands, heart eyes everywhere, smiles bigger than the Grand Canyon.

It's not even Superman, it's Clark fucking butter-wouldn't-melt-in-his-mouth Kent.

'Goddamn.'

'Arthur wants his money, too,' Batman says, casually threatening as he nabs a bottle of coconut water from the refrigerator.

Fucking Smallville. Hal's not sure whether to be mad or impressed. He's a bit of both, truth be told. 

Still. He has a reputation to uphold. He looks at Batman, probably a little crazy-eyed, as the guy decides to take his beverage elsewhere.

'I’ll tell you what, double or nothing!' he says, following a scowling Batman from the kitchen as he tries to flee. 'What's a threesome worth to you? Batman, hey! Wait up!'

Clark and Bruce make a pretty hot couple. You never know, this might all work out in Hal's favour.

  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Check out the collection on tumblr [superbatreversebang](https://superbatreversebang.tumblr.com/) So much great content!
> 
> And check out Inihiu's tumblr here [inihiu](https://inihiu.tumblr.com/)
> 
> And mine here [darter-blue](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/darter-blue)
> 
> Drop a comment - I love to hear from you! This is my first Superbat but I have 2 more coming for this bang - can't wait ❤


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